The poem of the month this time around is about a recent tragedy that claimed the lives of 176 people. I can’t put my faith in world powers any longer... it belongs to people. I’m currently in Mumbai and have had an inspiring time on this journey... not because of sights I've seen, but because of people I’ve met... people who’ve shared their stories so we could find what we have in common. Tour dates will keep rolling in... but for now I’m looking forward to being back in Eugene Oregon on January 31st... looking forward to making strangers less strange. Wishing you all a better year than the last but nowhere near as good as the years that are yet to come.
176
Each one had parents
biological or not
someone who raised them
who loved them
perhaps each one had brothers or sisters
perhaps aunts or uncles
perhaps cousins
perhaps a husband
or a wife
or a child
or children
definitely friends
definitely someone who will miss them
perhaps a lover
perhaps students
definitely grandparents
whether they knew them or not
definitely one branch of the family tree
that coughed through the gun smoke of wars they hoped
would be our last
definitely family
who lived through the thunder of artillery
distant or near
while praying the storm would pass forever
what colour is the poppy
for the ones who weren’t soldiers?
for the ones who fall
in wars that were not theirs to fight?
what day do we set aside to remember the innocent?
176
but each one
not the ones who rose to power
to pick fights they would never fight themselves
leaders who put the casual
in casualties
who believe peace is a prize
that can be bought with war
using grief as a down payment
and damage as collateral
who set crossfires on our front lawns
then wonder why we fear them
war hawks tweeting roars
from the safety of a nest
they’ve never had to leave
never had to stand shoulder to shoulder in a trench
trusting a stranger to have their back
because imminent threat made faith a necessity
folded flags
will not check for monsters under the bed
will not read bedtime stories to children
money
will not walk daughters down the aisle
will not teach sons to be better men
oil is not a cure for thirst
blood is not a meal
the lines in the sand
are drawn by governments
who need us to keep believing those lines are real
but people
are not their presidents
people are not their prime ministers or supreme leaders
people are not their governments
not their empires or regimes
people are neighbours
are teachers
are doctors
taxi cab drivers and pilots
scientists and janitors
waiters, air traffic controllers, and yes
soldiers
people are the people we trust
to deliver our mail regardless
of our religious or political differences
trust to cook our meals when we eat out
trust to watch the road when we cross the street
we are not the strangers our leaders insist we are
how can we be?
we trust one another everyday
we are people
people are not hoarding wealth in off shore accounts
people are just trying to scrape by
people are paying their taxes
while corporations don’t
people are tired of dying
at the whims of ego
people are tired
but people are always tired
when they first wake up.